​Trevvy leaned back in my chair. “I want to declare a truce. We got off to a rough start, and I want to clear the air.”

​“Why? Did you just fart?”

​“Connor!” Franco yelped. He turned to Trevvy. “I am so sorry, Miss Trevelynn. He’s just being a smart—“

​Trevvy raised her hand, and Franco quickly shut up. If I’d known that was all it took for him to close his yap, I would've tried that years ago.

​“I am well aware of Shaw’s many, many faults.”

​“At least I don’t repeat words like a five year old,” I mumbled.

​“At least I don’t mumble under my breath like an eighty year old,” she spat.

​Franco’s head was bouncing back and forth between the two of us, like a tennis ball getting lobbed back and forth. For fuck’s sake, Franco, pick a side already.

​“As I was saying, before Shaw so rudely interrupted me,” her eyes snapped back to mine. “I am going to continue my position as your PA, so I want us to get along to ensure the success of our partnership.”

​“A personal assistant is barely one step up from a desk jockey. I’d hardly call it a partnership.”

​She kept her eyes on me, while her hand reached into my desk drawer. She pulled out a slick gold wrapped bar. Most likely my last chocolate bar.

​Her fingers slowly travelled around the wrapper. It would’ve been an incredibly seductive act, if it weren’t being done to one of my most prized possessions. The lengths I went through to smuggle these chocolates past Meredith—I would've had an easier time escaping out of Alcatraz.